


Mini-Me

by oncetherelivedaboy



Series: On A Strangers Doorstep [12]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Hella future, M/M, slightly spoilery for things I have planned for later so if you want to wait don't read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncetherelivedaboy/pseuds/oncetherelivedaboy
Summary: Written for an anon request, that reads something along the lines of "If Philip ends up looking almost entirely like John, what are his parents reactions."





	

John barely notices that his son is the near spitting image of himself. Sure, they’ve got the same hair, but Philip’s is darker, closer to Alex’s color. His skin just a touch lighter than John’s. The freckles that cover every piece of his skin are more scattered in places and closer together in others. He shares the same cafe au lait spot on his ribs, something that Frances hadn’t gotten from John. 

Alex likes to tell him that Philip looks exactly like him, but John doesn’t see it. At least, not to intricacies that Alex does, who will point out how their dimples form in the exact same way at the same place in their smiles. John thinks the closest thing they share is the ability to make Alex light up like a Christmas tree at the tiniest of  things. When Philip used to babble nonsense, as he toddled around, holding out a toy for Alex to take before bursting into a fit of giggles, or when John would come up behind him, kissing the back of his neck. Alex was so full of affection for their little blended family. He’d pull Frances into his lap after nightmares and whisper away the demons with stories he wrote in the moment, using only the most gorgeous of words to paint out the dark in her mind. John couldn’t count how many times he’d found Alex sitting up with her. She was old enough to deal with the dark on her own, but Alex was always there. 

He’d come to notice that of Alex. The overwhelming need to comfort the both of them even if they were old enough to do it on their own. John supposed it probably wasn’t best to encourage the dependency he was sure it was likely starting, but he also couldn’t bear to see either of them upset, and it wasn’t really coddling. 

Alex used to gather Philip into his arms on stormy nights, and when he got older and his team lost the soccer match, he’d do the same. “Did you have fun?” And the boy would nod, sniffling and wiping at his nose with his sleeve. “Then that’s all that matters, next time you’ll just have to play even harder.” He’d hug him tight and fix his hair and they’d all go out for ice cream. Frances wasn’t the same, she played lacrosse, but she didn’t start until Junior High. She hid her upsets and pretended things didn’t hurt her. Alex saw through it long before John even had a glimpse. 

It’s when they’re flipping through photos on Philip’s 16th birthday that John actually notices it. Some of his own old photographs have been shuffled into the stacks. When he’d left for college he’d taken them with him. Philip is holding one of the pictures. 

“My god.” John takes it from, holding the photo close to his face and then drawing it back away so that he can see both the picture and Philip’s face. He sees it, and he doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before, because the kid looks exactly like him down to the freckles on his cheeks. 

“I’ve been telling you for 15 years, spitting image.” Alex leans back in his chair, the 10 year old Angie sitting in his lap, picking at a piece of cake. “What’d you think Ange, do Philip and Papa, look the same to you?” 

“Papa’s hair is turning white, and he’s got more lines on his face.” Alex nearly spits out his drink when she says that, but manages to keep himself together enough not to. John shoots him an accusatory look, but Alex can see the smile tugging on his lips. She’s right though, of course she’s right, in his smile it’s not just the dimples that show on his face. Faint laughter lines have become permanent features on his husbands face, and the small wisps of silver that are spread haphazardly throughout his hair are more than welcome. 

“Yes, but Papa always looked lovely in silver.” Alex said, leaning in press a kiss to his daughter’s cheek, casting at eye at his husband, who’s gone an even lovelier shade of red at the comment. 

“Does that mean I look good in silver?” Philip asks. “Because Frances said she’d make me a dress for prom, but that she wants some insight on colors and such.” Alex quirks an eyebrow. 

“Since when are you going to prom?” John asks. 

“Theo said she’d take me.” She was in the grade ahead of him, but the two had been inseparable since they’d met, and had practically grown up together. 

“I’m sure you’ll look wonderful in whatever your sister makes for you.” Alex says. 

“Should the main color be silver, or just an accent?” 

“What was it that Frances used to say?” Alex asks.

“I don’t remember the exact wording, but she would likely say to make the accent.” 

“I’ve still got to start on the sketches for her.” Philip gets up from the table, clearing his plate and putting it in the sink before racing for the stairs. 

“Hey, Philip.” Alex shouts and he pops his head back around the corner. “Happy Birthday.” The boy grins, that big goofy grin, dimples and all. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are held in the highest regard and I take requests at oncetherelivedaboy.tumblr.com


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